


empty chairs at empty tables

by sacredraisincakes



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22688050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacredraisincakes/pseuds/sacredraisincakes
Summary: Where my friends will meet no more...
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	empty chairs at empty tables

The fire crackled away in front of them as Percival silently passed the wineskin to Leon. In the distance, the bells of Camelot tolled, letting the people know that all was well.

But all was not well for the two knights sitting together in the small clearing. If they were honest, all had not been well for a long time.

“It was night time when I first met Lancelot,” Percival admitted into the darkness. “I was camping outside a village; I intended to go in in the morning to see about getting work as a mercenary. It was the only skill I had after Morgana’s raid destroyed my bakery. Lancelot happened upon me and I don’t know to this day how he did it, but next thing I know I’m headed out of Mercia on a quest to help a pair of men I’d never met. I’m not sure I ever even thought twice about it.”

It was the trip to Camelot that taught him of a serving girl named Gwen, who apparently shone like a star in a still black sky, calling to Lancelot like a siren. A girl who Lancelot swore he could never have because she was in love with another, far worthier man. Percival could not have said if the worthiness was truly a factor to be weighed, but anyone with eyes could see Guinevere’s love for Lancelot. All but Lancelot himself. While all of them had an abundance of reasons for their commitment to laying down their lives if need be, on that day when Lancelot had sacrificed himself to the veil, and on the day he had succumbed to the need to take his own life, they all knew only one reason, one person had truly been on his mind.

Guinevere had been the sole person on the mind of another as they stepped into the next world as well.

“Elyan and I grew up together. Their mother was my nursemaid, and my parents didn’t mind if she brought along her children while Tom worked in the forge. We caused so much trouble together, I’m sure they all regretted that decision. We used to steal the washing from the clotheslines and use to dress up the practice dummies in the practice courts. Father beat me soundly when he found out, but Tom just laughed. It broke his heart when Elyan announced he was leaving to start his own forge somewhere else. All of us tried to change his mind, but he was always chasing the next great thing.

He had found it in Camelot. Elyan had told them all about his adventures throughout the kingdom. He never stayed in one place for long, renting forge space and taking smithy jobs as they came. But the moment he came to Camelot and became one of the knights of the round table, he knew this was the best thing he would ever find. Even until the moment Morgana’s trap slew him in that terrible tower.

Gwaine, too, had found his place to call home. The rowdy noble turned peasant turned knight never even hinted that he was becoming restless in Camelot. “I think Gwaine was thrown out of every tavern east of market street. And only because the western ones knew better than to let him in in the first place!” He only managed to sneak inside when one of the others accompanied him, somehow convincing the proprietors that their presence would keep him in line. Even when it turned out to be far from the case, his natural charm always managed to keep him out of trouble. With all but Arthur that was.

Arthur, their king, their compatriot, their friend. Who always fought for what was right, even when he didn’t yet know what right was. Who wanted so badly to do well by his kingdom that he sometimes forgot to do well by himself. Who loved desperately even if they broke his heart in the end. And they all did, in the end. Uther, who could not see the man beyond his own envisioning. Morgana, who craved power more than siblinghood. Guinevere and Lancelot, who gave into their hearts’ truest desires.

And Merlin, who could not deny what he was born to be.

“Do you ever think Merlin had the right of it? Sometimes I look out my window to these woods and I can’t help but think I’d be better off there than within the castle for one moment longer.”

Merlin had never returned from Camlann. The last time Percival had seen him was at the lake, staring numbly over the water as he laid his king to rest. Even if he had been able to traverse the shore in time, he knew he could not interfere in this last moment. It was too private a moment, when you buried your own heart.

“No,” Leon replied softly. “I have to stay. For Gwen. For Camelot. I am all she has left of her old life.”

 _We’re all that’s left_.

Of the founding members of the Round Table, it was only Percival and Leon who remained.

Lancelot

Elyan

Gwaine

Arthur

Merlin

Percival had seen such a bright future when he came to Camelot. Despite the danger, despite the threat, all he could see through Arthur’s eyes was hope.

But now Arthur was gone, along with every last spark.

The fire crackled once again, and an ember floated up to land on Percival’s knee. The small spot nipped at his skin, but he didn’t bat it off. He just watched as the little ember burned brighter for an instant before fading away. He looked up again to stare into the fire from whence it came.

“We have to build a new life. Create a new spark.”

Leon looked over at him oddly for a moment, but then nodded. “One they would be proud of. For the love of Camelot.”

“For the love of Camelot.”


End file.
